Yang Qing’s deduction and scheme part (2)

Once Yang Qing felt he had sufficiently wet his beak, he set it aside and continued explaining his rationale.

"By the time Wen Chang had her mental breakdown, I was already more or less certain of my deductions. So while I was helping her, I used that brief moment to release part of my aura and implant something in Cheng Yuan's mental sea. What he experienced just now was only a small part of it—the real effect will trigger later if what I suspect comes to pass," said Yang Qing as a brief quiet snicker escaped his mouth.

"I don't know how he did it, but I suspect Sect Master Cheng Yuan erased certain parts of his memory—specifically those related to Dong Yanlin and the scheme he orchestrated. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to act so flawlessly. It's not an act if you truly don't remember," Yang Qing said, a pensive look crossing his face.

He couldn't help but wonder what method Cheng Yuan had used, one so seamless that even he couldn't detect any traces of it without forcefully reading his soul.

"But don't we have ways to counter whatever method he used to wipe his memory?" Mao Yunru asked, frowning in confusion. It wasn't that she looked down on lower-rank sects like Cheng Yuan's, but she found it hard to believe they could possess something capable of stumping even the Order's techniques.

"Mao Mao, if you keep thinking that way, your view of the world will be narrow and short-sighted, making it easier for others to take advantage of you. The world is far bigger than either of us can imagine. Cultivation is an endless journey, filled with countless divergent paths and discoveries—each as numerous as grains of sand.

There may be rankless sects with techniques that allow breakthroughs through three realms of the body refining stage in a single day, others with unparalleled blacksmithing skills, or some capable of mimicking the cultivation styles of spirit beasts. The same logic applies to cultivation arts and alchemy. Not even a seasoned alchemist can claim to know all recipes—what they understand is merely a drop in an ocean, and the same holds true for cultivation arts.

Some techniques may not be powerful in the grand scheme of things, but they might excel at one highly specific function—such as safely wiping memory. Never underestimate anyone, regardless of their rank. Even someone at the Qi cultivation stage might know something you don't." Yang Qing warned.

"I suspect the Green Fog Swamp Sect has a unique method of memory erasure, one so refined it can even deceive a Palace Stage expert's senses. As for how they did it, I'm inclined to believe it came from a certain natural treasure that was just here moments ago-their tupelo tree," Yang Qing said, as his tone lowered slightly embodying a conspiratorial tone.

Mao Yunru lowered her head, her heart racing. She realized she had been blinded by a mild sense of conceit simply because she was a member of the Order. Yang Qing, on the other hand, remained untainted, fielding a broader outlook—likely influenced by his experience, and his family, who were living proof that even a rankless lineage could possess skills so specialized and profound that they could catch the eyes of even a behemoth like the Order.

And his family wasn't the only one.

That realization made Mao Yunru feel even more ashamed, as she had overlooked one of the very foundations that had helped the Order grow into what it is today. The Order didn't just accept students from rankless families—it welcomed their families as well. And among those families and clans were people who carried unique skills, inheritances, and specialized knowledge in minor but invaluable fields. This diversity became one of the pillars upon which the Order thrived.

"Well, that answers your first question. As for the rest—which more or less boils down to why it seemed like I was going out of my way to support the Green Fog Swamp Sect—well…"

Yang Qing trailed off, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

"Mmmh… Mao Mao, what do you think the Order's mandate is?" he asked.

"We serve to maintain and enforce fairness, justice, and stability in the Southern Continent, regardless of who it involves," Mao Yunru answered studiously. It was something drilled into them since childhood—practically an oath.

"You're correct," Yang Qing said, raising a finger, adopting the air of a senior imparting wisdom to a junior. "But there are a few things I'd like to add."

He let the moment settle before continuing.

"The Order was established to prevent wars between cultivators from destroying the lives of ordinary people. At its core, our true purpose is to ensure their safety," he said.

Yang Qing lifted his index finger. "Just one cultivator at the Qi Refinement Realm—just one—is capable of massacring a thousand ordinary people with ease."

He let that number linger before continuing.

"What about someone at the Foundation Establishment Realm?" he asked.

"The toll would likely be fifty times that of a Qi Refinement cultivator," Mao Yunru answered, her tone grave.

"Exactly," Yang Qing said. "And that's just one individual. What about an entire group of them? Entire cities of non-cultivators would be wiped out as unwitting bystanders, unaware of why or how they died."

His voice softened, turning somber. "Back then, the wars were so devastating that the population of non-cultivators across the continent dropped by a third of what it once was. Can you imagine how staggering that number is?"

He paused briefly, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing.

"Because of how strong we are—and the hubris that comes with that power—we quickly forget that we were once them," Yang Qing said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Our parents, our grandparents… they were once them. Yet, the moment we gain a little strength, a little improvement, how quickly we forget—how quickly we begin treating them worse than livestock."

His expression darkened.

"That disdain is what led to the loss of close to trillions," he continued. "And though the Heavenly Dao is indifferent, even it couldn't overlook such devastation. For the first time, cultivators—who had long treated mortal lives as something inconsequential, something akin to harvesting chives—finally faced the repercussions of their actions."

Yang Qing exhaled slowly. "The deaths of so many mortals struck where it truly hurt us—our foundation. Our entire continent became hollowed out."

He paused, letting his words settle before continuing.

"As you well know, cultivators don't conceive easily," he said. "And the higher our cultivation base, the more difficult it becomes."

He glanced at Mao Yunru, watching as realization flickered in her eyes.

"A cultivator could live ten thousand years and try for all those years to sire a child… only to end up with one," he said. "If we relied solely on cultivators to populate the earth, how pitifully low would those numbers be?"

A heavy silence descended into the courtroom.

"We need them," Yang Qing softly said.

Yang Qing's expression suddenly turned wistful."We may look down on them… but mortals are the true lifeblood of this continent."

"And that," Yang Qing continued, "was the lesson those so-called 'grand cultivators' had to learn… and painfully so. For the first time, with their numbers ruthlessly cut down, the mortals who had always cleaned up our violent messes simply couldn't keep up."

He sighed.

"Their dwindling numbers meant they couldn't procreate fast enough to repair the damage we caused with our endless battles and collateral destruction. And because of that, sects, clans, and cultivation organizations suddenly found themselves without fresh blood to recruit—without new disciples to carry on their legacy."

A solemn silence stretched before Yang Qing called out, "Mao Mao…"

She straightened, sensing the weight behind his words.

"The greatest fear of any sect isn't some powerful enemy," Yang Qing said. "It isn't a lack of resources or rivalries with other sects. No, the thing they fear most—the true nightmare for every cultivation organization, from the mighty Holy Lands to the lowest rankless sect—is the loss of continuity."

He met Mao Yunru's gaze.

"The absence of a new generation to pass down their torch," he continued. "No inheritors of their legacy, no one to uphold the sect's will. That is what terrifies them the most. And when a third of the mortal population perished… that fear became reality."

His voice grew softer, more reflective.

"Those mortals may not have had the talent for cultivation themselves, but that didn't mean their children or grandchildren wouldn't."

Yang Qing paused, letting the thought sink in.

Not all geniuses in the world were born of cultivating parents, a good chunk of them came from humble backgrounds of non-cultivating parents, which is where all these powerful sects and organizations recruit a good part of their talents from," explained Yang Qing.

"Even clans for that matter, and kingdoms and empires," added Yang Qing.

"So when they decimated the mortal population to that extent, they felt it," Yang Qing said. "With fewer mortals, there were fewer talents to choose from. And with fewer talents, the powerful sects, clans, and empires had no choice but to lower their recruitment standards.

But lowering their standards meant dipping into the talent pool that should have gone to the lower-ranked sects and organizations.

And when that happened… those weaker sects were left with little to nothing. The ones that failed to find successors quickly fell into obscurity, their legacies lost."

Yang Qing exhaled softly.

"The overall cultivation level of the Southern Continent declined and that weakness was one of the reasons sects from other continents dared to sink their fangs into our lands," explained Yang Qing.

"So you see, Mao Mao, the Order's bottom line—its primary goal—is the protection of normal people. That's why the punishment for harming them is far harsher than the punishment for harming fellow cultivators. Because in protecting them, we protect the continent itself."

His voice remained soft, yet there was a quiet intensity beneath his words.

"When our primary goal is secured, only then can we focus on our secondary goal which is maintaining stability. We could do that through force, but force alone isn't sustainable. At least not with our numbers."

Yang Qing sighed.

"We have the shortest history among the major forces, which means we will always lack the manpower needed to fully enforce our mandate. That's why…" He let his words linger. "We have to rely on other means to achieve our goals."

His voice lowered as he continued.

"That… is what I did with the Green Fog Swamp Sect."

There was a brief pause before he spoke again.

"With what we do, it's only natural that many organizations, especially the powerful ones, the rank twos and above—don't particularly like us.

They grew up in an era where they could do whatever they wanted, without fear of consequence, but now they have to restrain themselves because of us. It's no surprise they resent our presence."

He smiled faintly, though there was no amusement in it.

"If they ever truly united against us… I have no doubt their first stop would be our doorstep."

Yang Qing's voice softened further, his words drawn out, deliberate.

"So… to prevent that future…" Yang Qing's voice trailed off before a scheming grin colored his face.

"We must insert as many variables as possible into the continent—to sabotage that unity."

His eyes gleamed with mischief.

"The only thing these sects and organizations hate more than the Order… is seeing weaker sects rise to their level. And that, Mao Mao, is where the Green Fog Swamp Sect comes in."

He let the words hang for a moment before continuing smugly, "They're my variable."

"The sect now owes us—for the mercy and grace I've shown them—and they know it. And if Cheng Yuan did what I think he did, then they owe us even more.

Because of that, they'll do everything in their power to stay in our good graces—because their survival depends on it."

Yang Qing's expression turned calculating.

"From this moment on, they are our eyes and ears. And the stronger they become, the bigger thorn they'll be in the sides of others."

He chuckled lightly.

"We need more sects like the Green Fog Swamp Sect—sects that will act as our informants and as key pieces in creating and maintaining a fragile and chaotic balance."

His gaze sharpened.

"That kind of instability is our greatest ally, Mao Mao. If sects, clans, and empires are too busy watching and restraining each other, they won't have the unity to turn against us."

Yang Qing's expression filled with quiet satisfaction.

"I intend to introduce as many variables as possible and continuously disrupt the long-established order. Because in times like these, a chaotic balance is our true friend."

His gaze locked onto his mentee as he concluded, "That's why I had no hesitation in helping Cheng Yuan."

"As for Peng Zhen…" Yang Qing paused briefly before continuing, "Helping him was partly to support my plans with the Green Fog Swamp Sect, but the other reason… was simply because I admire his character.

No matter how you look at it, the scheme he concocted was doomed to end badly for him—even if it had succeeded. And yet, he still went through with it. That kind of resolve… is something I respect."

Yang Qing paused, as his attention fell on Mao Yunru and the rest.

"Additionally, there's the matter of his pillars. You all felt it, right?" asked Yang Qing directing his question toward them

"Tribulation pillars…" Feng Xin murmured, a glimmer of respect flashing in his eyes.

"Precisely," Yang Qing said with a cheeky smile. "Someone willing to endure the demands of forming tribulation pillars would make for a fitting opponent against our students at the Institute, wouldn't they?"

Yi Jie let out a sigh, rubbing his temples.

"You really do enjoy spreading misery around, don't you?" he said, exasperation clear in his voice as he watched Yang Qing try to suppress his sadistic glee.

Still, despite his personal feelings, Yi Jie couldn't deny the logic behind it. Peng Zhen would be a suitable challenge for the students at the Institute.

After all, the fact that he endured and survived the formation of tribulation pillars already made him an exceptional individual.

Tribulation pillars—just as their name implied—were formed through tribulation. When a cultivator on the cusp of breaking through to the Core Formation realm deliberately postponed their advancement and used the tribulation to refine their pillars, they could elevate the grade of their pillars.

It was one of the rare methods known to improve one's foundation pillars… but it was also among the most dangerous. A single misstep meant having your foundation crippled or worse.

There were very few success stories and it seemed Peng Zhen was amongst their ranks.

Yang Qing ignoring Yi Jie's looks, continued with Mao Yunru's lessons.

"But don't worry, Mao Mao. You don't have to imitate my way of doing things. The more cases you judge, the more you'll develop your own way of enforcing justice—a way that reflects your own interpretation of the Order's ideals.

Read more, listen more, seek advice, and, most of all, keep an open mind. If you do, you'll eventually see your own path," Yang Qing said, gently patting her back.

"I know you'll be a splendid judge, Mao Mao. You had an amazing teacher, after all," Yang Qing said, puffing out his chest with pride. "In the Order, I have many monikers, and one of them is the World's Canvas—because of how much of the big picture I can see. You're in luck, Mao Mao, to absorb some of this splendor and greatness."

"Pfft—hahahah!" Mao Mao suddenly burst into soft laughter, and soon the rest joined in.

"Leave it to Yang Qing's shamelessness to lighten the mood," they all thought as the man in question rubbed his nose cheekily.

He then turned his attention to Feng Xin, who informed him about having Bolin, the Rainbow Mist Toad, in his possession, along with the possibility of Haishi, the Mirage Dragonfly, joining their unit.

"Of course he's ours! I'm not sharing him with those alchemists," Yang Qing declared vehemently, his tone filled with righteous indignation. "We're already undermanned, and having an extra pair of hands wouldn't hurt. Besides, we could learn more about the Green Fog Region. Let him out first."

Feng Xin nodded and released Bolin from the soul-anchoring bamboo jar. The toad appeared disoriented, like someone waking from a deep sleep, but he quickly regained his bearings. He glanced around, spotted Feng Xin, and immediately recognized that he was at Feng Xin's workplace.

Then, after a brief moment of assessment, Bolin bowed respectfully toward who he assumed was the leader—Yi Jie—completely overlooking Yang Qing.

Yang Qing's eye twitched as he snorted in displeasure.

"How does Yi Jie look more like an expert than I do?" he fumed internally, seething with envy.

"Ahem, Bolin, my boss is actually the green-haired guy," Feng Xin said, clearing his throat. "Though the one you just bowed to is also my boss, the green-haired one is the overall boss. He may not look like much, but even two of me couldn't defeat one of him."

Bolin stiffened, his glands practically shriveling in fear. He eyed Yang Qing with newfound wariness. At first glance, he didn't seem like a fearsome figure—but then again, they had all misjudged Feng Xin as a soft lamb based on his appearance, and he had painfully learned from that mistake.

"S-Sorry, esteemed master! This lowly one is Bolin," Bolin stammered, bowing so low his face nearly touched the courtroom floor.

"Wow! A Rainbow Mist Toad!" Yang Qing had already squatted next to him, poking him with his index finger, his face lit up with a childlike grin.

Bolin nearly suffered a heart attack, convinced he was about to be obliterated, but the smooth, gentle qi coursing through him quickly dispelled that fear. A moment later, glowing purple writing congealed on his skin:

"Yang Qing's toad—don't try anything funny."

Bolin blinked in confusion.

"Good. With that, those alchemists won't be tempted to kidnap him and swap him with a fake," Yang Qing said with satisfaction as he admired his own calligraphy. "Feng Xin, get him registered at the personnel office. As for his training, we'll leave that to Luo Meili—she's better at this sort of thing. Nice to meet you, Bolin! I look forward to chatting more, but I'm a little strapped for time. We'll have a proper welcoming ceremony later—together with the Mirage Dragonfly, too."

Feng Xin nodded and left, while Yi Jie stepped into the hallway to call in the next group for their case hearing.

Just as Feng Xin was walking away, his steps faltered. A nagging feeling tugged at him like he had forgotten something important.

He frowned for a moment, then shook his head and continued on his way.